What's Happening?
by chocochips-icecream-lover
Summary: Haymitch's name was drawn to be the next boy tribute from District 12 in the 50th Hunger Games. What happened to his family and girlfriend? this is my first fanfic :


"Happy 50th Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" Effie Trinket, the light sea-green haired woman announcer who undoubtedly hails from the Capital, gleams at the crowd as she finishes the signature beginning of rallying the unfortunate souls. The Hunger Games, it took my brother away from me last year, a primitive event that takes place every year. It is our version of gladiators from Ancient Rome – fight to the finish, death for only one can be announced the victor. No laws. No rules.

It is hot and crowded. In the town square people jostle none stop to permit themselves some elbowroom. The perspiration moist, cool, and salty on my skin sticks like glue and fastens people together. The scent of earth and coal is noticeable pungent as more people enter the square to participate in the reaping. It's getting harder to breath and the heat beating down on us from the sun with the body heat surrounding me is cruel and suffocating. Help!

I want to leave but my body won't move. I'm shoved around and tossed to and fro as those around me move closer to the stage or farther - as if that'll improve their chances of not being picked. Closing my eyes images from memories long ago, my father, mother, and brother eating as a family. There is piping hot cabbage soup on my bowl, usually the sight of this slimy clump of goo would cause me to lose any appetite I had but I have to be thankful. It has been a long time since I've been in a room with my family.

Family a sing unit working together as one, they endure any obstacle thrown their way because they are there for each other no matter what. A warm hand enwraps my wrist, I open my eyes and my heart skips a beat as I'm pulled into his embrace. Hay-"Haymitch Abernathy," speakers boom through out the town square. I hear sighs of relief from all around. Families' thankful their sons are saved from certain death for another year. I look past the people on my right and capture a woman, maybe a girlfriend or fiancée, clutching on to her loved one as if Effie Trinket may make a call back and the person called would be the one who holds her heart.

But… What about me? I'm deaf. I must be deaf, the noise from the crowd and the constant electrical humming from the speakers are gone. All I hear is my heartbeat, loud and frightening to my ears. "Quarea," his voice whispers to me as he attempts to muster his self-control, "let me go." He thwarts himself from crying but it's not working I can hear the quiver in his voice.

NO! This cannot be happening. Please God, no, don't take Haymitch away from me. I've already lost my brother to the Capitol please no. I mentally beg as the emotions from last years Hunger Games resurface. I remember watching my brother die trapped, encaged, and tortured to death by careers because he was perceived as a potential candidate for the title. The pained expression on his dirty, bloodied face started my spark of hatred abhorrence toward the Capital and their stupid game. His grey eyes contained a fierceness and drive only found in animals.

Without any second thoughts my hands instinctively reach out, grasping his shirt I rise to his level and kiss him. I close my eyes out of fear that he would pull away from me. I'm scared. I'm trembling.

His arms embrace me and pull me closer, please don't let me go. You promised me you'd never leave me. "I will come back," he says shakily while forcing a smile for me. Haymitch. The crowd engulfs him as he tentatively makes his way to the stage. I must stay strong. I mu..mus..mu- it's useless. He takes his place on stage and looks out on to the people he's leaving behind. Seeing him shake was painful. How can he survive?

It has been three weeks of torment. Everyday it is obligatory for everyone to watch the Hunger Games and everyday I die slowly. I haven't seen Mrs. Abernathy or Kei, Heymitch's younger brother, since the reaping not that I don't like them rather I'm afraid of breaking down again. Recently, I wake in the middle of the night seeing my mother in her pink floral nightdress, her once beautiful face contorted with concern. Apparently I scream at night and cry out while lashing at invisible forces.

Déjà vu Haymitch covered in blood while running away from his pursuer, a girl from 2 I think. His kind eyes are stricken with fear and the gentle face- the one that I sought comfort in- is now decorated with scars, bruises, and opens cuts. Other than appearance I know that he has changed in a more frightening way.

The pavement scorching underneath me and the smell of freshly made bread wafts through the air reminds me of the pain Haymitch's in and the hope that he'll return. I am grateful the Mellark's bakery shop is in the town square and although I may never try any of the pastries made it reminds of the day we met and our promise.

Two tall figures emerge in front of me. Is it time already? No one notices as they take hold of me. I don't fight back because this is better. Instead I focus on the hem of my dress, it's the same one I wore during the reaping, and how the paleness of the dress looks breathtaking on the dirt gray concrete road as I'm lead to the Justice building.

Once the building masks our figures, I am blindfolded. Capitol people talk about the game, how can they find this entertaining? Killing people? "Humph, who's this little girl?" asks an anonymous person. He doesn't sound like he's from the capitol, could it be someone from the seam? No. I can't make out where this guy comes from. A curse escapes as muscular arms lift me and carry me left and right. A creeks from a door forced open welcomes me as I'm shoved into this dungeon. The putrid smell of decaying flesh strikes my senses. Quiveringly, my legs attempt to lift me up as I grope around trying to find a wall for balance. I need to get out.

_Quarea..._"Hello? Is any one there?" I ask, wow my voice sounds nothing like me. It's high-pitched for once, and sounds so helpless. GAH! I hate this. "Quarea?" The voice, a bit louder but much more clearer sounds like a child - a familiar child. Wait a seco - "Keith?" I whisper failing to conceal my hope.

"Quarea! How did you get in here?"

"I... Uhm.. Well.. You see I was in the square watching your broth - the Hunger Games when two men came and took me here. They held in a way that I couldn't escape, no matter how hard I struggled. They blindfolded me and one of the men carried me and eventually threw me in here. How'd you get here? I haven't seen you since the -"

"You mean we're not in 13 anymore," interrupts Keith his voice filled with dread, "we're not in 13 anymore."

"What do you mean 13? 13 was bombed. No one survived. It would be suicide to even think about going to such a place."


End file.
